Dear Journal: I'm Crazy
by Rinpoo
Summary: Doug Funnie is put on antipsychotic medication to help with his mental disorder. Unfortunately, life-changing events are not so simple, and he writes his private thoughts, fears, and moments in his beloved journal in hopes that things will turn out ok in the end.


Well, here is my story based on the prompt for the Fanfiction Reddit. My three required words were Album, Threaten, and Agent. All of which are included here.

The story is entirely epistolary, and it also likely covers the entirety of "firsts" prompt simultaneously, since there are a ton of "firsts" in the story.

Length is 3,600 words of epistolary goodness.

Inspiration is taken from the Doug Funnie is Crazy Blog. Please take the time to look it up and read it. It is incredibly well written and beyond funny. Support that in any way you can.

Dear Journal. I'm Crazy.

Tuesday, February 1st, 1994.

Dear Journal,

It's me, Doug. I am writing to you today because I have some big news! It is almost Valentine's Day, and I asked Patti to accompany me to the big Valentine's dance. You wouldn't believe it Journal, but she said YES! I can't believe it! I am so happy; finally, my chance to tell Patti how I feel about her will come true. I just need to keep my cool, get a haircut, and not let Roger spoil my evening. Oh! Come to think of it journal, I should probably get her something wonderful as a gift. I am not sure what, but I have been saving my allowance for months to buy a new bike. I am sure that I can buy her something nice if I really think about it, maybe Skeeter has some suggestions? Well, I will call him tomorrow sometime in the evening. My parents are making me go meet with some psychiatrist after school. I really do not know why? All I did was mention that Porkchop spent all night listening to his Walkman and dancing. He does that every night and has so for years. They've even seen him do it for crying out loud! Well, even so, I will not let it ruin my good mood for the upcoming "date" with Patti.

Goodnight Journal.

Wednesday, February 2nd, 1994.

Dear Journal,

It's me, Doug. Sorry, I am writing in you so late. I haven't been myself since the visit with the doctor. She was very nice, but the truth is. I feel terrified right about now. After asking me a bunch of questions about Porkchop and my everyday life, she had a private meeting with my parents. After that, they brought me in and told me that I am not experiencing reality correctly. Like, what? How is that even possible Journal? I tried to explain to them that I am just fine, but the psychiatrist insisted I be put on anti-psychotic medication. I am not crazy! Do you think I am crazy Journal? I would hope you don't because that would really hurt my feelings. I really don't know what to think. I was supposed to call Skeet tonight, but I feel so down and frightened that I am not sure how to tell him what happened. What if he hates me when he finds out? What if Patti or god forbid Roger finds out!? Oh man, my parents said I could take the day off from school tomorrow if I wanted, so I think I just might. If you don't hear from me for a little while, please understand Journal. It isn't you, it's me.

Goodnight.

Tuesday, February 8th, 1994.

Dear Journal,

It's me, Doug. I really must apologize for not writing in you for so long. Things have been strange since I started taking these pills. I haven't been to school in about a week, and my parents have been super nice. Even Judy of all people is treating me wonderfully. Skeeter and Patti have tried to call me every day, but I can't bring myself to let them know what is going on. I feel like I am so alone now, even Porkchop is acting abnormally. Since I went on my medication, he hasn't danced, listened to music, or even conversed with me. All he does is sleep and sniff me, and it makes me wonder if he is as depressed as I am. Well, I think I will stay home again tomorrow before I test the waters and go back Thursday. I really can't feel happy or risk going to the dance if it means people will find out how broken of a person I am. Sorry Patti, Skeeter, Porkchop, and most of all, you journal. I will try to keep up my writing, at least, since I need you right now more than ever before.

Goodnight to you.

Thursday, February 10th, 1994.

SKEETER ISN'T BLUE! I refuse to believe it! I went to school for the first time today, and everyone was DIFFERENT! Nobody was beautifully colored anymore, NOBODY! Skeeter! He was blue, I swear it, or at least I swore it until I came home. I checked the photo album of pictures I took since we became friends, and even in those pictures, he ISN'T BLUE! They all are so bland and boring now, with very few colors. Mr. Dink isn't purple, Roger isn't green, and Skeeter isn't BLUE! I can't take it anymore. I miss Porkchop doing more than pooping on the carpet and sleeping, I miss everyone's beautiful colors. I don't know what happened. I don't want to believe this is how things really are. I have spent so long enjoying life as it was that now I feel I really am going crazy. Other people say I am more attentive, and I don't space out as much, but I do not even know what they are talking about! I just want things to return to normal, to the way I know they should be. Please!

I'm going to bed journal.

Sunday, February 13th, 1994.

Dear Journal,

It's me, Doug. I am starting to feel a little better than I was before. It takes some getting used to, but the longer I take the medication, the more used to the changes I become. I find talking to Patti easier, and she seems even more excited about the dance than before. I finally told Skeeter everything, and he just put his arm around me and said: "It's cool, man." I expected his typical honk, but when I told him as much, he looked perplexed. Roger came up to me later while I was riding my bike and tried to make fun of me, but I am starting to feel kinda bad for him. He may not be puke green anymore, but I noticed that the poor guy has a bad case of rickets from his vitamin D deficiency. I didn't say or do anything, and he seemed almost sad that he couldn't get a rise out of me, part of me feels sorry about that too for some reason. My parents aren't doing well, though. They think I don't know, but I hear them arguing over my new medical expenses and medication. I am not sure what this means for my future, but I am getting ever more worried as they become increasingly upset over the issue.

Anyway, thanks for listening to me Journal. I feel a bit better.

Goodnight.

Tuesday, February 15th, 1994.

Dear Journal,

It's me, Doug. I had the most beautiful time at the dance last night. My parents let me stay out extra late, I guess, because they don't want me to hear them arguing. Patti was wearing a lovely white dress, and Skeeter even managed to snag a date with Beebe Bluff. The slow dance Patti and I had was magical, and when the whole event was winding down, we left a bit early to head to the Honker Burger. I used some of my saved allowance to buy us a meal, and then when we sat in the booth, I presented her with a portable Discman. She was shocked, to say the least, and seemed really excited to listen to the new Beets album on it. She asked why I would spend as much as 200 dollars on her, and I told her it was a small price to pay to see her smile. She did just that, and even though all of my bike savings plus a chunk of Christmas savings are gone, I feel content. I walked her home, and she actually kissed me on the cheek. I can't help but wonder how the old me would have handled all of that.

Anyway, I gotta run Journal. I will see you later.

Tuesday, March 22nd, 1994.

Dear Journal,

It's me, Doug. It has been over a month since I have written. I am sorry, but over this time, I have steadily been hanging out with Patti more and more. I have been seeing a mental health professional once a week. Unfortunately, I am starting to get really nervous. The initial dose of my prescription is running low, and my parents seem at a loss for how to handle every cost. They desperately want me to continue with treatment but have been turned down for better insurance. With all of our living expenses and now this, I can't help but feel like a terrible burden. I am starting to understand just how out of touch I have been all this time, and the normalcy I feel now is tranquil. I pray for some miracle because I am afraid to lose everything I have gained, especially my time with Patti. I am so adamant about this that I have considered getting a job myself to pay these costs. Still, my parents do not want it affecting my studies and tell me no twelve-year-old could afford it. I love them more than anything, but I don't think they have a grasp on just how much this means to me now.

As always, thanks for listening journal.

Wednesday, March 30th, 1994.

Dear Journal,

It's me, Doug. I have run out of my medicine, and I feel a bit terrible. Things with Patti are going fantastic, at least, and she wants to treat me to the movies next week. She knows I blew everything I had on her gift, so she often uses it for us to jam out to the Beets together. My parents are trying to work out a payment plan with my therapist because we haven't been paying, and they are refusing to refill my prescription unless I continue seeing them. I hope things work out fast, but the good news is, I still feel healthy and am not hallucinating or having delusions of grandeur again. Funny that in all this time, I have hidden what I have been going through from Patti. I feel like I want to tell her, but I almost know she will go running when she finds out what a disturbed nutjob I am. I am not sure why this had to happen to me Journal, but I always end up crying when I think about how much this is, and can, hurt the people I love.

I will stay strong; I believe I can do it.

Friday, April 8th, 1994.

Dear Journal,

It's me, Doug. I went to the movies with Patti, and I had a wonderful time, though I barely remember the movie. She seemed concerned for me the entire night, but I kept telling her I was fine, even though the colors are starting to come back again. I tried talking to Skeeter on the phone, but his honking kept distracting me. It never used to! I used to find it endearing. Maybe it is because I know I am losing everything again, or perhaps I am gaining everything again? My mind keeps telling me so many different things that it is hard to grasp. My parents keep checking on me, and I keep saying I feel healthy, and I say this even as I see Porkchop setting up the chessboard for us to play a game. I can at least say I missed that, good old Porkchop. It is nice when he is animated and full of life, instead of, you know, just being an ordinary dog. Judy seems worried, so she is helping my parents pay for my therapist, though it will be a few weeks until I can be seen again. I confided in Mr. Dink today about my troubles because he usually has a pleasant way about him. All he said to me was, "Douglas, my boy, healthcare in our country is very expensive!" He let out a typical laugh and patted me on the back and reassured me that things would work out.

I really am not so sure.

Anyway Journal, I need to go. I want to play chess with Porkchop before bed.

Thursday, April 21st, 1994.

What a fool I have been. I can see now that all of this has been a trick. A trick to make me forget my true identity. No doubt, it is a plot by the nefarious Dr. Klotzenstein in his attempt to be rid of me and steal Patti. "Roger" threatened me today when I accidentally stepped on his shoe, and it made me realize the medication I was given was actually amnesia pills. Jokes on your Klotzenstein! I remember now that I am secret agent Smash Adams, and tomorrow I intend to unmask your true identity in front of everybody. I fear that he has done something to my friends and family to make them all complicate in this, so I must keep the fact that I remember who I am a complete secret. Once I have Klotz where I want him, I will make him tell me how to reverse what he has done. Porkchop agrees with me and is ready as a backup should I ever forget my super-secret spy identity again. It almost worked, it almost worked Journal, but I can see everything clearly like before, no, more clearly than before!

I will make sure to turn on self-destruct mode for my Journal to keep it out of enemy hands.

\- Smash Adams

Saturday, July 9th, 1994.

Dear psych ward napkins, It's me, Doug. I know you are not Journal, but not being able to write is killing me. I am finally permitted to have straws, so I am writing with the juice from my juice box, using the straw as a pen.

I feel ashamed for the things that have happened, and being here for over two months has been both expensive and disheartening. Still, my parents tell me that my outburst at school has led to a filing on my behalf for disability.

The burden I have put on my family is extensive, and I have missed the rest of my school year. I realize now that attacking Roger and pushing him down the steps was wrong. I sure hope he is ok despite how he has always treated me.

Patti, Skeeter. They will never talk to me again after what I had done in front of them. I can't believe I grabbed Patti and tried to save her from "Klotzenstein." I barely remember it all, but I have talked to the hospital staff many times about it.

Well, I am out of napkins, and can only hope that I am allowed to keep taking my medicine. I may never live down the shame, but I will at least have a sound mind to feel that shame if I am on my medication.

Sunday, July 24th, 1994.

Dear roll of toilet paper, It's me, Doug. I am

excited to learn that I have the option to leave

now that I have been here for over ninety days.

I have decided to stay just a bit longer, but they

have allowed me access to pencils, so writing is

much easier. Unfortunately, I forgot to get paper,

so this roll will have to do until I do. I found out

that Mr. Dink has offered to help cover the cost of

my treatment until I am able to get insured by the

government. Bless him, I hope he doesn't feel

too bad for my predicament, it is not his fault at

all. My parents are excited to have me back soon,

but I want to make absolutely sure that I am ok.

I really am scared to go home and face everyone,

especially Patti and Roger. Maybe I am thinking

too hard about things, but now my secret is out,

and I can never hide it again. I was in a really

bad place before, and it took almost a solid month

to convince me that I was not super secret agent

Smash Adams, and that this hospital was not

Klotzenstein's prison. Anyway, I am going to

head to bed half-used toilet paper roll.

I hope you have pleasant dreams.

Goodnight.

Monday, August 1st, 1994.

Dear loose paper,

It's me, Doug. I am going to be leaving today, and I can hardly believe it. I was given a multi-refill prescription and will be seeing my therapist weekly again. I would never have thought I would be so happy over such a thing, but I suppose it is where I am now. My parents said they would come to pick me up and bring me home around five, so it is only a matter of time before I am going to see my room and my beloved Journal again. I hope that Porkchop has not missed me too bad, and it will be great to be in the comfort of my own room once more. Oh! And to be able to ride my bike to the Honker Burger and get a delicious double meat honker with a side of fries. Man, it really is the simple things in life that bring the most joy. Well, I just looked at the clock and can see that it is almost 4 30, so I will probably stop writing here sheet of paper. I want to be completely ready to greet my parents when they show up, but thanks for being here in place of my Journal when I needed you.

Goodbye.

Monday, August 1st, 1994.

Journal! Does it feel good to have you again! There is so much to talk about that I don't even know where to begin. Really though, it has been quite the day! My parents picked me up and took me to Honker Burger for dinner, though what I was not expecting was everyone to already be there waiting for me. Skeeter, Patti, Connie, Beebe, the Sleech brothers, even Roger! I was utterly shocked to see him of all people. He acted like his usual self and told me that next time, I "wouldn't catch him off guard." I apologized for attacking him, and he just ignored me and told me that a wimp like me couldn't hurt him. I got a big hug from Skeeter and Patti, and I tried to apologize, but she would have any of it. She asked if she could come over tomorrow to talk to me privately, so I told her it would be ok if she felt safe doing so. She just smiled and laughed and told me. "Of course I feel safe silly." I felt relieved being surrounded by all my friends, and Skeeter bought me a nice double honker to celebrate.

I really have great friends, even Roger can be kind of cool sometimes.

Goodnight journal, happy to have you back.

Tuesday, August 2nd, 1994.

Dear Journal,

It's me, Doug. Today was my first whole day home. Mr. Dink came over to visit, and I simply felt like hugging him for all that he was doing. He just laughed and smiled as he did. After his visit, Patti dropped by in the afternoon, and she stayed with me in my room until nearly ten o clock. It was embarrassing and awkward at first, but she eventually admitted she came to talk to me about what happened. She wanted to know why I never told her. I wasn't sure if I could answer, and then when I saw the hurt expression on her face, I just admitted the truth. It was because I liked her, and that didn't want her to stop being near me. She seemed surprised at first, but then she had a grin more prominent than I'd ever seen it. Oh Journal, she moved closed to me, and in an instant, she kissed me on the lips. I swore I was going to die of embarrassment. "I would never want to stop being around you, Doug Funnie." She said to me. I honestly felt like I was floating on the moon at that point, then she pulled out her deskman and asked if I wanted to jam. With Killer Tofu blaring, we spend the afternoon dancing, then my parents and I gave her a ride home.

It has been a late night Journal, but I just want you to know I am feeling thrilled right now.

Goodnight.

Monday, August 8th, 1994.

Dear Journal, I am happy to say that my family has officially applied for benefits to cover the cost of my mental illness. It has been a rather long journey already, and it will take another 3 or 5 months to get a decision. Still, I am hopeful more than I ever have been, since I have the support of my friends and my neighbor. I always feel bad that I caused this and made people go out of their way for me, but I guess I have learned from all of this that I am lucky to be surrounded by such wonderful people. Most of all, Patti, who has admitted that she would like to be my girlfriend. No, not just a friend that's a girl, bu D! I can hardly believe it! Journal, I never thought you would see this day, but it is finally happening, I am officially dating Patti Mayonnaise! I don't know what the future will bring, what middle school will bring, what change will bring, but I can honestly say for once I am not terrified. I will overcome it all Journal, and with everyone's support, I am 100 percent positive of that.

Oh! It's the last page! It looks like I need to buy a new journal tomorrow!

Thanks for letting me write in you journal. I am sad to see you go, but I am happy you stayed with me for this short while.

\- Douglas Yancey Funnie.


End file.
